AT THE CRACK O’ DAY
“Tony!”
There was no reply. Gus called again, more sharply, but still fearful of being heard. Silence. There could be no delay in action. With his nerves still a-tingle, the boy seized a stout bit of wood, evidently cut for the fireplace, inserted it between the window bars, bore down and with a low squeak of protest the nails came out. Another pry, with the sill for a fulcrum, and there was a hole big enough for a body to get through. The bit of wood now acted as a step and in a moment Gus was inside the cabin.
At the extreme end, lying against the logs, lay a figure. Gus instantly stooped to shake it. Tony waked up with a cry of alarm.
“Don’t, don’t yell, Tony, it’s Gus! Get up and come quick!”
Nothing more was required of Tony. He was instantly awake and in action. Not another word passed between the boys—but was that cry heard by the kidnapers?—the rescuer wondered—and with reason. They must be off instantly.
To the window! As Tony drew near it, pulling Gus by the hand across the dark room, he paused. Outside there was the faint sound of a step. Tony uttered a faint “sh,” and grabbed Gus by the arm. It was the elder Malatesta.
“Ah! So? You make get-away. I fix that.” The next instant the muzzle of a rifle was poked through the broken place—poked well through, and possibly this shrewd defier of law and order never made a greater mistake, which he recognized when he felt the muzzle seized and bent aside.
He pulled the trigger, but the bullet buried itself harmlessly in the wall of the cabin. Malatesta attempted to jerk the gun away, but Gus, fortified by the leverage against the sill and the window bars, held on, his own weapon crashing to the floor. How Tony managed to dive through that hole as he did, landing squarely on his enemy neither he nor Gus ever could figure out, but when Gus found the weapon free in his hands, picked up his own gun and followed Tony he found the insensible miscreant, who had received a sufficient smash in the jaw from Tony’s heel.
“We must fly, my dear friend Gus,” said Tony, “for now they will come—those other two!”
“We will stay right here and give them a pleasant reception,” said Gus. “I will watch on the path, Tony. You take this gun. But first get a rope, quick! Tie that chap’s arms behind him and search him for automatics, or anything.”
It was but the work of a few minutes. Malatesta seemed to hesitate about coming to his senses. This was a good thing for the success of the subsequent capture; for the elder brother might have called out and warned his two confederates.
Gus told Tony to guard the far side of the cabin and arranged that either must come at the call of the other. They must shoot only when sure.
Back came the younger Malatesta, their better known enemy. From behind a bush Gus poked his shotgun muzzle into the fellow’s ribs, told him to drop his rifle and stick up his hands. As he did this, he uttered a frantic yell of warning. Then he, too, was seized and bound.
They waited long and eagerly for the American accomplice. Would he sneak through the woods and try to surprise them? To guard against this, Gus left Tony with the two prisoners, thus reversing the conditions under which he had lately been held. There was no glee, no revengeful spirit shown by the fine-minded Italian youth, but a keen sense of satisfaction and determination glowed in his eyes.
Gus scoured the woods, hoping to find the accomplice, who would not recognize him as an enemy. But the fellow was gone. It was an easy thing for him to hide there—but not so easy to get away altogether, past the cordon of police now swarming over the peninsula. But he did get away, for he was never heard of again.